


Designation Ocean

by LapsusCalami



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, M/M, Minor Violence, more tags as I post
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-14
Updated: 2019-05-04
Packaged: 2020-01-13 10:44:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18467344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LapsusCalami/pseuds/LapsusCalami
Summary: A CIA agent. An international criminal. A night they never forgot. When the past catches up to our boys, they find a connection that can't be ignored.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first EVER QaF fic. Please be kind.  
> This is also posted on Kinnetik Dreams under the same penname.   
> I really hope you all enjoy.
> 
> DISCLAIMER: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
> 
> Thank you to the incredible Kathy (cookiebun) for being my beta. You are wonderful!

The man held the cold metal stock of the rifle against his right shoulder. His left eye closed as he stared down the scope at his target. There was a deep sense of satisfaction in ending this particular piece of trash. When the name came across his interface, he had been anxious, excited. The energy buzzed around him. Electricity crackled and made the tiny hairs on the back of his neck stand at attention. Usually this kind of thing was just a job to him, nothing more. This time it was personal. This target had fucked him over once in a situation that could have been the death of him. Granted, his survival ultimately created the demise of countless others but that was neither here nor there. He had been lucky. His target wouldn’t be as fortunate.  
He watched carefully as his target spoke to some adoring fans. His wife stood stony to the left, looking very unhappy. She tapped her foot subtly. It seemed like she couldn’t wait to get away from the whole ordeal. If only she knew.

Soon.

Sights adjusted. All variables accounted for. He knew his target like the back of his own hand. He could predict the movements of his target better than a meteorologist could predict the weather. This would be easy, laughably so. He usually wanted more of a challenge, but this was much too good to pass up.   
A deep breath in. Light pressure of his right index finger, just enough to squeeze the trigger, a little tease.  
Exhale.  
The rush of endorphins this time was better than most orgasms. A smile crept onto his face. Justice served and vengeance achieved. Finally.  
He quickly disassembled his rifle and stored it away, pulled on a baseball cap and silently made his exit.  
He never missed.  
One shot, a single solitary shot, and his target had hit the ground.

Jim Stockwell was no more.


	2. Chapter One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to cookiebun for the beta!
> 
> \---------------

****Brian Adian Kinney. Codename: Liberty. No longer the drugged-up alcoholic of his club boy days. Now, one of the top CIA operatives in North America for the last six years. He still tricks, obviously, but after the night he spent with that mysterious twink from under the streetlight, he was different. He wanted different things from life. Things that, amazingly, didn’t always include getting laid every single time his dick twitched.

 

There was a void now. One that his previously used methods of pain management couldn’t touch. It was unfortunate, and damn if he didn’t try, but once he realized that partying wouldn’t touch the feeling, he knew he would have to find another way.

 

He found a new line of work and it helped him ignore that pesky feeling of emptiness. Of course, no one knew about his new profession. Well, no one save Ted and Cynthia. It was funny to him now that he knew who they really were. They hid themselves very well in their previous NOCs (non-official cover). Ted really did numbers well, so the accounting came very easy for him. Thing was, Ted Schmidt was anything but predictable and boring. He was a tech op marvel. He knew the ins and outs of so many operating systems and he could manipulate them like they were instruments playing in tandem with the operas he loved so much.

 

Cynthia was less of a surprise. She had always been sneaky and a bit terrifying in her own right. Brian had always wondered how she was able to get her hands on all the information that he had demanded of her in such a short amount of time. Now, he understood. She was head of Intelligence Gathering for the Pittsburgh desk. She had her fingers in many proverbial pies. Her contacts were far reaching due to begrudging respect given to her for clawing her way up by using her brain rather than her vagina.

 

All three of them run their missions from Kinnetik. Brian uses his status as CEO as cover for travelling. Ted and Cynthia use CFO and COO respectively. To outsiders, they all run the top advertising agency in Pennsylvania, and noone is the wiser.

 

What most don’t know is that underneath, literally below, Kinnetik is the base of operations for their “other” business. It would come as a surprise to many that had been read in, that Kinnetik provided NOC’s for a large number of operatives. At least a fourth of all employees that worked there were also operatives for the Agency. It made things much easier on the spy front.

 

When Brian first decided to try for the CIA, he had many doubts about his ability to succeed. Luckily for him, he was a natural in many areas that were looked for. It didn’t really surprise him that he got a call to head to an office in downtown Pittsburgh for an interview. He knew that he would at least get that far.

 

“What makes you think that you are suitable for the Central Intelligence Agency, Mr. Kinney?” A woman with silver gray hair piled in a bun atop her head asked him. He wasn’t told her name, but perhaps that was a test. He was observant when he entered anywhere. Years of looking for just the right trick had served him quite well in that aspect. He remembered looking at the directory in the lobby. He had been told to go up to the fifth floor, office 534. There were no names on the doors like you would assume an office would contain. Brian was suddenly very glad that he took time to look around himself.

 

“Ms. Farnsworth, may I call you Regina?” He asked her, professionally of course. He wasn’t trying to keep himself out of the CIA before he even had a chance to begin. The woman smiled at him and nodded, “Regina, I have spent many years trying to be the most successful person in the world. It stems from my childhood. I think I could benefit the CIA in ways that others cannot. Where most operatives live under the radar for the more clandestine operations, my skill set can make it easier to infiltrate corporations. There would be no need to back date paperwork to ensure cover identity as I already have a well-established business persona.”

 

“Don’t you think that since you are well known in the business world, that it would be a hindrance rather than something we could work with? Furthermore, we are more than aware of your… proclivities.”

 

“I understand where you, and the rest of the Agency, may think that. However, I think it is my ability to figuratively sell ice to Eskimos that would ensure a prominent success rate in ops that require a certain amount of finesse.” Brian explained. Regina nodded her head. “As for my, proclivities, as you say; it is partially a façade that I have donned for many years. It is certainly not something that I find necessary to survive.”

 

“Hmm. Well, you certainly know how to get people to listen to you. Perhaps there is something you can do for us after all, Mr. Kinney. I think it would be in your best interest to report to Camp Peary next week, Monday. You are going to need to make arrangements to ensure that no one knows where you are going. I trust that will not be a problem for you.” It wasn’t a question. Brian nodded.

 

“I promise that the Agency will not regret this decision.”

 

“See that we don’t. Dismissed.” Regina turned away from him then. He rose from the chair that he had been stationed in. A feeling of pride welled inside him. Things were finally going to start going right. This was going to be the beginning of a new life. Brian was more than ready to move forward after years at a standstill.

 

The Farm refined abilities that Brian already possessed, like his ability to read what others wanted or needed. Brian had always been good at that when it came to sex. He wasn’t known for being a Stud for no reason. After long months of cultivating the skill, he could easily read intention beyond mere need. He had the ability to see when people were intentionally being dishonest and attempting underhanded manipulation. His time at the Farm opened his eyes in so many ways. Many of which changed his life outside dramatically, and not just in positive life affirming ways.

 

Brian had always been savvy when it came to negotiation. In the past he would often use his dick as means to smooth the way. He didn’t need to do that if he didn’t want to. He was a damn wordsmith, able to build and destroy with simple phrases, beyond his usual sarcasm and caustic wit. His interpersonal skills had progressed farther than even he dared to expect.  
It didn’t hurt that Brian spoke three languages other than English. He had learned them for business and frequently used them when he worked for Vanguard. Knowing Mandarin, Spanish and Arabic come in more than handy when working for the Company. Immediately, he was recognized for those skills alone.

 

All of it combined gave him an edge for clandestine operations. With his Bachelor’s in Psychology, he was a shoe in. He was grateful when an advisor at Carnegie Mellon told him that double majors were a wonderful thing to have. Brian admitted that he wanted to study the human psyche to find out how he could avoid turning into the fuck up his old man had been. For a while, that knowledge didn’t help. It did now, The Farm shaped him and sent him back to Pittsburgh a new man. He owed the Company everything.

 

Ted had been shocked when he learned his new NOC, though shocked was the understatement of the century. Finding out that Brian Fucking Kinney was a Company man just about took the cake. He met with Cynthia about their new assignment. Both were astounded and spoke of the situation with humor and a healthy dose of caution. Who knew what made Brian turn his life to this out of the blue? That was six years ago. Today, they were a well-oiled machine. Cynthia would brief the team, Ted and Brian and whomever else they had with them would plan out strategies and contingency plans to ensure success.

 

It was another day of all work for Kinnetik, as it was basically whenever they weren’t actively doing something for Langley. Brian was looking over finished boards for Brown Athletics when he received a text message from Cynthia containing one word.

 

**Yellow**

He tensed immediately. He knew it meant that Langley had just sent Cynthia something that would soon become actionable. He made his way to the main door of his office and clicked the button to engage three different locks. He closed the blinds that were hung over the window and went to this intercom.

 

“Rebecca,” Brian spoke tersely to the temporary secretary. He hated the girl with a passion, but in the absence of his usual secretary, Jessica, who was currently on maternity leave, he couldn’t actively complain.

 

“Yes, Mr. Kinney?” the voice of the Valley girl wannabe hit his ears. He cringed slightly.

 

“I’m not to be disturbed in my office. Call my cell if anything Gus related comes up.” He paused.

 

“You know what that means. If Lindsey comes to chat about our son needing something, and it doesn’t look like she is in hysterics, don’t bother me. That doesn’t count as a reason to disturb me.” He felt the need to remind the girl following the last pseudo-emergency chat that the mother of his child had brought to his office. Gus being eight now, had his own phone, and would use it to get ahold of Brian should he need anything. Gus was the only one on the list to always be put through on the phone. Gus came first. Always.

 

“Of course, Mr. Kinney. I’m sorry about last time. Won’t happen again.” The temp told him, gum smacking like a cow chewing cud.

 

“Of course.” Brian knew it wasn’t really Rebecca’s fault. It was her first day on the job, and Lindsay in her WASPish ways had preyed on the girl. Brian gave the girl a pass but told her next time it happened would be the last time she did anything in the capacity of being his personal secretary. He didn’t give his employees more than a single warning. He always expected the very best from those that worked under him.

 

Brian walked to his executive bathroom and opened a panel near the shower. A simple press of a button had the far wall sliding to the right, exposing an elevator. Brian entered and punched in his code- 1729487- and waited the twenty-six seconds that it took to descend. Once the door opened, Brian stepped into the sleek room. The far wall held a bank of monitors, usually teeming with information, now curiously blank. Ted, Cynthia, and four others were already around the circular table in the middle of the room, tablets at the ready. They all looked up as Brian took his seat.

 

“Well, what do we have?” Brian had expected Cynthia to just begin her brief as she did without pause. When she didn’t, he looked up at her curiously. “We don’t have all day, Cyn.”

 

“Unknown entity. Designation: Ocean.” Cynthia began.

 

“No name?” Brian queried. It wasn’t like Langley to send them incomplete documents. Usually they had everything they needed to get started. There was little research to do once Cynthia got her hands on the intel.

 

“We barely have a description, Bri.” Ted explained, “We only have three photos, and they are basically useless. All left side, profile. Whoever Ocean is, they sure know their way around security cameras.” Brian nodded to indicate that he wanted all the info and to hurry it along.  
“Alright, Ocean, as we know him, is an American male. Age 20-25. He is number seven on the CIA’s actionable list.” Brian whistled.

 

“What the hell did a kid do to earn a top ten spot on our shit list?” Brian asked, doubting this kid could really be as dangerous as Langley made him seem.

 

“He is credited with the recent assassination of Mayor Stockwell. He is a killer; a sniper, and a damn good one. He has 93 confirmed kills. His suspected hits are in the triple digits. This kid is one of the best single man strike teams we have ever seen. In and out. No evidence. No clear witnesses. The kid is a ghost.” Chuck told him while flicking through the data on the screen in front of him.

 

“Is that all we know?” Brian asked, mind already running to come up with plans.

 

“We know that he either has 20 different rifles or has one with interchangeable barrels. It’s why his suspected hits are so high. The MO matched, but the weapon caliber wasn’t right. He always wears a head covering of some sort. His eyes, when they aren’t obscured by sun glasses… Well, apparently, they are this incredible shade of blue. It looks like falling in an ocean. Hence the name.”

 

Brian’s mind flashed to a night 8 years ago. He saw eyes that have haunted him since. That fucking smile that lit up the night. Even in his very, VERY intoxicated state that night, Brian knew he would never forget that smile. The one he got right after they fucked the first time. That wonderment, the eyes that held unwavering trust even though they were strangers in nearly every sense of the word. He couldn’t remember the kids name now, but that didn’t matter to his dick. His dick always twitched when he remembered that fateful night.

 

“Earth to Brian! Where did you go?” Ted’s voice broke through the memory. Brian rolled his lips without a word. This job wasn’t about some fucking twink he would never see again.

 

“Nowhere. Just thinking potential strategies.” Brian said with a shake of his head to clear the last of that night from the forefront of his mind.

 

“Strategies make you hard?” Chuck joked. If Brian was the type, he is sure he would have blushed. Instead, he smirked.

 

“You know how much I love the chase.” Brian responded as Cynthia and Ted both rolled their eyes.

 

“Do you have any idea how we are going to do this with so little intel?” Ted questioned, his voice hard. “We usually have at least a face to go on. This time is different. Nothing we have is actually actionable at this point.”

 

“Then we data mine until we find something that is.” Brian said simply. “Cynthia, get all the info on the confirmed kills. We need to know why they were killed. From what we can tell, Ocean has skills. We need to deduce his skill set to bare bones. He got the knowledge from somewhere. The kind of precision it takes to achieve some of the kills isn’t something that you pick up in a fucking library. Ted, you and Chuck consolidate with Cynthia and see if any of the other kills were politically motivated like Stockwell. I don’t see how it was anything other than politics there, but we need to nail it down. Troll the usual message boards to see what our outside assets are able to dig up. Ocean gets hired somehow. Might find something on the Dark Web that connects to the contracts.” Brian clapped his hands together, more than ready to help Cynthia with the mountains of data that they were going to need to sift through. It was going to be a long few days.

 

\----

 

After everyone had a job to do, Brian took a moment to check his phone. Two messages from Lindsay. Four missed calls from Michael. Brian pinched the bridge of his nose. He couldn’t deal with this right now. He made sure the messages from Lindsay weren’t concerning Gus before deciding to just ignore everything from them. He had more important things to do.

 

He started combing through the data, trying to find some way of figuring out the enigma that was Ocean. There had been a single witness to describe him. In the early days, what had to have been one of the first hits Ocean did, a woman hired Ocean by posting a carefully worded ad on Craigslist of all places. She had posted that she wanted her abusive father out of her life once and for all. Ocean answered and met with her. He offered to do it for free so that it wouldn’t tie her to the death. Unfortunately for her, she insisted. While she had no idea how it would be done, it wasn’t hard for authorities to find the ad that she posted. It was even easier to find that she pulled out $2,500 from her savings account several days before her father was killed. She was charged with felony conspiracy to commit murder. When she gave her testimony, she said the man she gave the money to had incredible blue eyes, she remembered because the color had captivated her. She was quoted as saying, “it’s like falling off the edge into an ocean”. He wore a baseball cap, but she didn’t notice anything else about him other than the fact that he looked like a kid.

 

The money she gave him was returned to her and it was enough to get her acquitted of all charges. She didn’t pay anyone money to kill her father now that the money had been sent back to her. All she did, as per her attorney, was speak to someone about the abuse that she suffered at the hands of her father. Since it had never been disclosed to the public the amount she had paid, having the exact amount returned to her saved her.

 

Brian had to wonder about it. A cold-blooded killer ensured that the woman didn’t face jail time. It just didn’t fit the profile of a serial hit man. Brian read the letter that had been enclosed with the money. Helvetica, size 12 font, black ink, single spaced, and printed on unremarkable printer paper. There had been no trace evidence on anything; not the money, not the envelope, not the paper itself, it was sterile as a hospital.

 

‘I was not paid to kill Victor Wayne Burgess. The man was abusive and got what was coming to him. He was shot because he deserved it.’

 

Why would a killer do what Ocean had done? Was it a twisted sense of empathy? Perhaps he wasn’t content to share the credit of his kill? There were too many unanswered questions.

 

Whatever the reason, subsequent hits were much more careful, and it seemed that he no longer met people in person anymore.

 

There was no clear way to get ahold of him now. Brian knew that they would have to find out how to contact they guy. They would need to set up a dummy target. It would put someone’s life in grave danger. Was he prepared for that? This was beyond the scope of anything he had done for the Company in the last six years. This mission would make or break him. He knew because he would be sacrificing himself. He wouldn’t allow another to go in his place. There were just too many variables that they couldn’t control. The plan would need to be beyond reproach.

 

First, Ocean needed to be found.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed. Leave a comment, it will brighten my existence.


	3. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks once again to the amazing cookiebun for making sure my stuff is readable. You’re a doll.

Justin Cole Taylor was once an innocent young boy with stars in his eyes and love in his heart. He found love one night in a loft with a man that made his first time incredible. He wanted more but knew from Brian’s _best friend_ just what would happen if he were to stick around. To save himself the pain of a broken heart, Justin left Liberty Avenue and the Face of God firmly where Brian told him to; in his dreams.

 

He lived his life from that moment, seizing any opportunity to establish himself as a person, to build and grow. When he found himself sitting next to Chris Hobbs in the equipment room, he took matters into his own hands in the most literal sense. Damn, Chris’ dick had felt so good. It was hard and pulsing. Justin’s mouth watered when Chris came. The interruption was like a bucket of ice water straight to the groin. Though, Justin was almost thankful for it.

 

Justin tread lightly after that. He made sure to stay out of Chris’ way and put up with being run into lockers and called a fag. He kept his mouth shut and let it happen. He wasn’t exactly surprised with Chris approached him for help with English Lit; Justin was smart, everyone knew that. They agreed to meet after Chris had finished practice.

 

Chris picked him up to go to the library, it turned out that Chris really lacked in that area and was actually struggling a lot with comprehension. Three hours later they were back in Chris’ Camaro, with Chris’ hand in Justin’s pants, tongue down his throat. Justin came with a harsh cry. Chris took his hand out of the pants only to have Justin take the hand and surreptitiously lick his own cum of those fingers.

 

“Oh, fuck.” Chris groaned. He wasn’t quite sure what was happening. He wasn’t a fag, but Justin made him feel things. Things that he didn’t feel with girls. Had never felt with anyone.

 

“Do you want me to suck you off?” Justin radiated confidence even though he had only given one blowjob. He had only received one as well. Both experiences were with Brian. Chris nodded his head quickly, a flush spreading over his face at his quick assent. “Lean back.”

 

Justin undid the button of the jeans and unzipped them slowly. He pulled out Chris’ cock. It was harder than Justin thought possible considering that Chris was supposed to be straight. He got to work, going slow just like he learned from Brian. Tentative licks to the head, then slowly engulfing the shaft as far as it would go without making him gag. It must have been good because Chris had his fingers in short blond hair. They just rest there, guiding a little, not really forcing. Small stutters of his hips told Justin that the man under him was close. So, he redoubled his efforts.

 

“Jesus, Justin. I’m gonna cum.” Justin did his best to do the incredible things Brian had done to him. He pulled back, so the head was the only thing left in his mouth and sucked hard, tonguing the slit just a little. Three stutters forward and Chris exploded. Justin found he didn’t much like the taste of the spunk, but he swallowed it anyway just to keep himself from choking. He wasn’t thrilled. Judging by the look that graced Chris’ face, Justin had done well. He licked Chris clean even though he didn’t like the taste. It was the polite thing to do.

 

Chris didn’t say another word as Justin tucked the softening member back into the jeans. Chris started the car and began to take Justin home. Right outside the Taylor residence, Chris finally spoke. Justin wished that he had just kept quiet.

 

“You know,” Chris began, voice a bit pensive, “I always heard that fags suck dick better than most girls can. Something about knowing what they would like, so they can do better.” Justin looked over at the other boy. Chris refused to return the eye contact. “You tell anyone about what just happened, and I swear to God, I will ruin your life.”

 

“Don’t worry, Chris. I won’t tell anyone that you got your dick sucked by a fag.” Justin said with a shake of his head. “I just hope you realize that no amount of denial is going to erase that you liked it.”

 

“Fuck you, Taylor. You don’t know shit about me. I’m not a fucking fairy. I just wanted to know if the rumors about fags were true.” Justin sighed.

 

“Right. You let me suck your dick for to prove a theory. Okay. Keep telling yourself that. Just let me know if you need to prove your theory again.” Justin said boldly before quickly exiting the car.

 

The next few months between the two were strained, filled with animosity and rage from Chris. Justin only provided furtive looks of pity. Chris would watch Justin from afar, slam him harder into lockers, knock his books out of his hands, spit venomous words all in hopes of destroying Justin’s “out-and-proud” attitude. Nothing worked and it only served to make Chris angrier. The treatment got worse when Amir Ramsay moved to town. He was a junior, with mocha skin and blonde hair. He was the second person at St. James to be openly gay.

 

Of course, that meant that he and Justin became fast friends. A happy fucking threesome with Daphne. Chris hated how happy they were. Openly gallivanting across campus for everyone to see. It was disgusting. Amir and Justin didn’t exactly flaunt that they were together, but Chris could tell that they were butt buddies. Amir confirmed it with a sappy prom-posal that made Justin flash that damn smile.

 

It wasn’t the dancing. It wasn’t the way Amir held the other blond. Neither of those are what sent Chris over the edge. No. It was the small but intimate gesture of Justin putting his forehead against Amir’s. The move got aww’s from those around them. Chris seethed and had to leave the ballroom. It was lucky that the place that was holding the prom also had an area for batting cages, at least Chris could blow off his steam there. He grabbed the wooden Louisville Slugger from the trunk of his car and began to make the trek to where the cages were. Unfortunately, on his way, Amir and Justin were there. Chris got to witness Amir press his lips against the fullness that was Justin’s mouth.

 

Chris snapped, like he was booted out of command of his own body, forced to watch himself be driven forward by a presence not his own. He was on the outside looking in as his feet walked him over to the pair. He heard his own voice speak out and echo around him. “Hey faggots.” It was his voice that called out, right before the bat slammed against Amir’s head first. Chris didn’t even remember deciding to speak. Justin’s sharp intake of breath caught Chris’ attention; Justin tried to move away. The wooden bat met skull with a sickening crack. It wasn’t until Justin hit the ground that Chris could once again control his actions. The slugger clattered to the ground, echoing in the night air. He frantically looked around him to see if anyone had seen what just happened. There was no one. He grabbed the bat, threw it in his car and ran for help. He told one of the chaperones that he saw the attacker and he rushed to get help.

 

Chris learned the next morning that Amir fell into a coma sometime during the surgery to stop the minor bleed that happened when the bat hit a metal plate in his head. Turned out that Amir had a brain tumor once and had gotten the plate when they had to take out a piece of his skull to remove the tumor. Chris just so happened to hit right there. Justin fared much worse. He died three times on the operating table before they were able to stop the bleeding and swelling of his brain. Chris didn’t remember hitting him that hard, but he must have. Immediately after surgery, Justin was put into a medically induced coma. Unfortunately, they weren’t able to bring him out of the coma like they planned. It seemed his body wasn’t ready, and it just stayed shut down.

 

The investigation was going nowhere. There was a little bit of evidence, but nothing concrete. The police knew that the assailant took the bat with them when they left, but there was no way of knowing where they went after they left the scope of the camera. The parking lot cameras had captured the actual attack. Grainy, black and white, no real way to enhance the details as the cameras and the system were almost a decade old. That worked in Chris’s favor. The only thing that Chris did was to get rid of the bat in a burn barrel near a homeless camp. He knew no one would really question why there was a fire there. Still, Chris knew that he needed help when Craig Taylor tried to speed the investigation along. He preached that Justin flaunted his sexuality and brought it on himself when he decided to take that fairy with him to a prom.

 

Hobbs Senior was not pleased at the mess that Chris had gotten himself into. To most in their circle, whomever did the act weren’t really in the wrong as they were just protecting themselves from being subjected to that kind of sin. The law didn’t see it that way. So, naturally, Hobbs Senior called in his friends on the force to make the problem disappear. There was no way that this was going to ruin the life his son had in front of him. The police were all but told that the investigation was to go nowhere.

 

It would have been fine, but then Justin woke up. Chris couldn’t stay away, even with his father warning him not to go to the hospital. He knew he should have left well enough alone, but he needed to see Justin. It had been three weeks. Justin remembered nothing about the prom. He lost the entire week leading up to it. Chris made the mistake of telling Justin that he was sorry. He flew into a rage, but it was no excuse for what he had done. A detective, that hated dirty cops with a passion, heard him as he was there to take an official statement from Justin. He cuffed Chris within seconds.

 

In the end, Chris got off with a slight tap on the wrist, much to the dismay of Amir’s family. Chris was forced to do 500 measly hours of community service. Even dead to rights, Chris didn’t serve any time. The Taylors were not in attendance of the trial. Craig had denounced his son and refused to acknowledge his existence. Jennifer and Molly were stunned, but it wasn’t their place to question the man of the house, so they let it be. Both still checked in on Justin when they could. To the Ramsay’s, there was nothing worse than weak minded people that blindly supported bigots, so they did what they could to ensure Justin got the best treatment.

 

Justin wasn’t too surprised that Chris didn’t really get into trouble. He remembered the way Chris would look at them, after Amir moved to town. Justin couldn’t remember the prom, but Daphne said it was amazing. Amir was a light in a dark life that kept Justin going after his foray to Liberty Avenue. He was Justin’s other best friend.

 

Justin visited Amir every day while he went to physical therapy. The therapy didn’t do much for him, but it broke the monotony of the guest room at the Chander’s residence. He felt a terrible sense of guilt that he is the one that is awake while Amir lay in a bed as the world just kept going without him. The doctors didn’t really have an explanation as to why Amir hadn’t woken up, and Amir’s parents refused to give up on their son.

 

It was Amir’s mother, Oksana, that suggested that maybe Justin should look into other types of therapy. She spoke to him about the way they had helped Amir with his coordination after he had his surgery. Justin wasn’t sure about the whole shooting range thing. After three months of intense therapy, he was still shaking more often than he wasn’t, so he didn’t have anything to lose. Amir’s father, Niko, took him the first few times until Justin felt comfortable with it. He didn’t require much guidance. It was almost as if it was meant to be, as soon as he held Niko’s Glock .45, he could feel himself steady. It was oddly calming.

 

Niko told Justin to picture something that made him angry and focus on that. Justin just had to laugh at that, he had several things he could picture. It helped. His aim was steady and true. He kept going to the range because it helped keep the shakes to a minimum. He also did it because it made him feel better mentally, the control made him feel less helpless.

 

His natural ability caught the attention of more than one patron at the range. He frequently received congratulations. One patron in particular would regularly supply Justin with ammunition or would bet certain amounts of money that Justin would get if he hit where was marked, in the order that was marked. Justin was so good that he hit every mark like it was a bullseye.

 

“Mr. Taylor, you are a natural.”

 

“Thanks, Mr. B.” Justin pulled his sunshine smile.

 

“You know, you have skills that could prove to be very valuable.” Mr. B said, keeping everything vague.

 

“I’m not the military kind, Mr. B. I’m an artist, not a soldier.”

 

“I wasn’t talking about enlisting, Mr. Taylor.” Mr. B always insisted on formality even though they have known each other for months. Justin didn’t even know what the ‘B’ stood for. Still, Mr. B always seemed to look out for Justin after he told the story of what happened at prom. Mr. B kept an eye on Justin to ensure he had everything he could possibly need, but Justin didn’t know that.

 

“I’m not sure I get your meaning then.” Justin furrowed his brow.

 

“You will. Have a good day, Mr. Taylor. See you next week.” Mr. B left Justin alone in his thoughts. He made sure his gun didn’t have any rounds left and double checked the chamber, just in case. The first thing Niko had taught Justin was gun safety. He took it very seriously.

 

Justin found himself ruminating on what Mr. B had said while he carefully stored his weapon with the Arms Master at the range. If he didn’t mean enlisting… he couldn’t mean?

 

 _No._ Justin shook his head. There was no way that Mr. B meant anything illegal. Right? The more he thought about it, the more he was certain that the older man didn’t mean sharpshooter competitions. He put it out of his mind as he made his way to his tiny apartment above a deli. It wasn’t much but it wasn’t Daphne’s house and it was right above where he worked. He moved from the Chander’s residence as soon as he could, not wanting to mooch off the kindness of his best friend and her family. He didn’t have to, but he knew that he needed to in order to grow.

 

He checked his email and found something from an unknown sender. Normally Justin would just junk the message, but the subject line ruffled his feathers.

 

**From: Unknown  
** To: JTaylor@pittsmail.com  
My abusive father crossed too many lines 

 

Justin had to click the message. There was no text, just a hyperlink to a Craigslist post. He clicked the link which took him to an oddly worded ad.

 

_-My abusive father crossed another line. It is one thing that he used to beat me, my sister and my mother. When my sister introduced him to her daughter, he seemed fine. She, my sister, made the mistake of leaving her 10-month-old alone with him. The situation turned into a disaster. Without going into too many details, my niece will never be the same. He will never get in trouble because of who he is. My sister is terrified of him. I’m looking for advice on how to get my father out of our lives once and for all. –_

 

There was an email address listed so that they could be contacted. Justin had to wonder who would send him the link to the post in the first place. He didn’t know what possessed him to reply to the ad. Maybe it had something to do with his own brush with abuse. He set up a new email to reply. He wasn’t sure what made him do that, but it just seemed logical. He used bunk information to create it. Immediately after, he began messaging with the person to set up a meeting.

 

Justin donned his ballcap, a staple in his wardrobe now since the bashing happened. His hair didn’t like to grow over the scar from the incision they made to relieve the pressure and swelling. He didn’t like the stares he got from people around him. It caused a disquiet in Justin that he didn’t like to be saddled with.

 

The woman was shorter, on the stockier side, with mousy brown hair sloppily pulled back into a ponytail at the base of her neck. She looked forlorn, exhausted beyond belief. Something about the look in her eyes hit Justin right in the gut. He wanted to gather the woman in his arms and never let her go.

 

“Are you Sapphire?” Justin asked the woman.

 

“Yes, but you may call me Alesha. Alesha Burgess.” The woman, Alesha, told him. “I won’t ask your name. Shall we sit?” She motioned to a bench. “I don’t know how this kind of thing is supposed to work.” She admitted, seeming to talk a mile a minute while saying very little.

 

“Just tell me the outcome you would like to see.” Justin didn’t know how he was able to speak with such assurance, didn’t know what made him choose those specific words.

 

“After what that scum did to my niece, Leslie, I want him gone. Forever. He just won’t leave us alone. My sister is too frightened to say anything, and no one will believe me over him anyway. He is just going to get away with nearly killing Leslie.” Alesha said quietly.

 

“Give me his photo and I’ll make sure he doesn’t bother your family again.” Justin’s words expressed a confidence that he definitely didn’t feel.

 

“Meet me here tomorrow. I will have his picture. 1 PM?” Justin just nodded at her question. She left without another word, leaving Justin to contemplate what the hell he was doing. What did the woman really expect him to do? Why did he even email the woman in the first place?

 

The man in question, Victor Burgess, was vile. He had a list of priors a mile long, none of which ended with prosecution of any kind. Honestly, Justin was pretty sure that scum like that shouldn’t continue breathing. The thought caused a shudder of revulsion to roll through him for even thinking that someone should die after he himself almost had, with Amir in a coma. The prom ordeal still shook Justin to the core.

 

Three hours of deep thought later and Justin was sure. This man, disgusting as he was, was Alesha’s Chris. That little baby girl could have been Amir. Or worse. Justin couldn’t get justice for Amir, but he could for Alesha’s family. It was what he had to do. What he needed to do.

 

He knew now what Mr. B had been talking about, that he had skills that could be very valuable. Maybe this was exactly what he was meant to do. He needed to talk to Mr. B, only so many things can be determined in his own mind. He dialed a number he had never had cause to call before. After three rings, someone answered.

 

“Good evening, Mr. Taylor. To what do I own this auspicious pleasure?” The voice of Mr. B danced through the earpiece of the phone.

 

“I need a favor, one that only you can help me with.” Justin’s voice was frazzled but determined.

 

“Whatever you need, Mr. Taylor. “ Mr. B assured, “I’ll get you what you need by courier.”

 

“I need a muzzle suppressor for my Baretta 92 FS, the weapon I keep at home. That or a butterfly knife.” Justin admitted softly, almost like he was unable to believe what he was asking for.

 

“I have just what you need. I’ll get it to you by midnight.” Mr. B didn’t say another word, just hung up. Justin let out a breath, it shuddered in his chest. What the hell was he doing?

 

At 10:37, there was a knock on the door. The man standing there was impeccably dressed, nothing like a standard courier would look like. It was confirmed when the man spoke.

 

“Compliments of Mr. Br- Mr. B.” Justin almost smiled at the stumble but couldn’t do that as his hands were suddenly full of a large package. When he looked back up, the man had already disappeared. Justin hated that people could do that.

 

He sat on the futon that doubled as a bed and opened the parcel. Inside was a gun metal black suppressor that Justin knew would thread perfectly into the muzzle of his beloved SF. He didn’t feel as conflicted with the actual tools in his possession. The parcel also held five assorted sizes of butterfly knives. Justin grabbed a rather small one and flipped it open. It looked a bit like a straight razor, but both sides were sharpened. He flipped it a couple more times. He practiced the skill a bit when he was younger with a blunt knife when he was a scout. He was surprised he could still do it at all, considering that he was using his gimp hand.

 

There was a lot of things that Justin had on his mind when Alesha sat next to him on the same bench as the day before. What the hell was he thinking? Could he even go through with this?

 

The day was overcast, yet Alesha had on aviators with extremely dark lenses. The entire situation was cliché and worried Justin.

 

“Alesha, why are you wearing sunglasses?” Alesha shifted uncomfortably under his scrutiny.

 

“My father showed up at my sisters. They wouldn’t let him in to see Leslie at the hospital because he isn’t immediate family. I wouldn’t let him in the house.” She said softly.

 

“Why didn’t you call the police?”

 

“He hit me so hard that it knocked me out cold. My sister took him to see Leslie. She was afraid that he would kill me.”

 

“Did you bring me a picture?” Alesha nodded and passed Justin an envelope. When Justin saw what was inside, he shook his head.

 

“I can’t take your money.”

 

“I insist. What you’re doing, whatever it is, is priceless. This is the least I can do.”

 

Justin left before Alesha did, feeling heavier than before. He knew what he needed to do. He steeled himself and found the scum that could hurt an innocent child. Justin thought that the man looked homeless. His clothes hadn’t been washed in ages and his hair was basically grease. It made his head look like it was just a slick of oil. Justin got skeeved just watching the man move.

 

Three days. That’s all it took to know that Victor Burgess was a creature of habit in the worst way. He was a stalkers wet dream. He went to the same bar, at the same time, every single night. He drank the same thing, Coors Light. At least five of them. He hit on every woman and tried to start a fight with every man. Mostly, people just ignored him until he became belligerent, then they made him leave. He walked everywhere when he was intoxicated, not wanting to spend money on something like a cab. All of it looked great for Justin because he took the same route home.

 

Justin walked into an alley in the middle of the route and waited. His heart started pounding as he threaded the suppressor into the barrel of his handgun. He hid in shadow, dressed in all black, hoodie over his head. He heard Victor yelling out an Irish folk song.

 

“Ho, ro, the rattlin’ bog, the bog down in the valley-o. In that bog there was a hole; a rare hole, a rattlin’ hole.” The song was slurred and more than a little off key.

 

“Victor?” Justin made his voice higher in order to sound like a woman. It was enough to make the man turn around. Justin shot twice without a thought. He was shocked at how loud the shots were even with the suppressor. It was definitely not like Hollywood made it sound. He looked down at the man and felt… nothing. Not a damn thing. He let out a breath before turning around.

 

He left the area quickly and trekked back to his little apartment. He should have been surprised by the fact that Mr. B sat at the rickety table, but after the night he had, he couldn’t bring himself to care. He just walked over to the mini fridge and grabbed a bottle of water. He offered it to Mr. B, who shook his head. Justin shrugged, closing the fridge and opening the bottle. He gulped down half of it before Mr. B spoke.

 

“Mr. Taylor, I see you took me up on that idea.”

 

“Turns out you were right. My skills ended up really working for me.” Justin threw the envelope with the money and picture of Victor on the table. “She insisted on paying me. I can’t let her take the fall for this.”

 

“I understand, but this can’t come down on you. You’ve only just begun. Have you touched the money?”

 

“Had to to get the photo out.” Justin reasoned, but kind of hated that he didn’t think that far ahead. “I didn’t think about it. I wasn’t going to keep it.”

 

“I saw the ad. It won’t take much for them to find it. Burgess had clout. A former police officer, low ranking, didn’t move beyond beat cop. He was shot on duty. They are going to put everything they have into this.” _Well shit,_ Justin thought, _I should have done more digging._

 

“Mr. B, she can’t take the heat for this.”

 

“I’ll clean the money and get it back to her. I’ll make sure she is okay. If you want to keep doing this, you are going to need a different approach. Is that what you want, Justin?” Justin didn’t catch the informality.

 

“Yes.” He replied without hesitation.

 

“Then do me a favor,” Justin nodded, “Call me Ben. Ben Bruckner.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and reviewing! You are giving me life!


	4. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to cookiebun, she makes everything better! Trust me! Also, thanks to my dude Jared for not kink shaming me and reading this as I write it. You are truly wonderful. To the readers and reviewers, I adore you. Thank you for reading.  
> \----------

For the last 46 hours, Ted has been combing through a horrid pile of travesties. The Dark Web was a shit storm of the worst things a person didn’t even want to imagine. Ted had seen enough horrors in the last two days to last him the rest of his life. Even just reading through the code gave him mental images that he would never be able to get rid of. He couldn’t fathom what it would be like if he could actually see the images and videos within some of the more gruesome pages. He jumped when a hand touched his right shoulder. He turned to see Brian standing there, holding out a steaming cup of coffee.

  
“Shit, Brian.” Ted exclaimed, taking a calming breath. “That coffee for me?” Brain gave him a crooked grin and handed him the scalding liquid.

  
“You’ve been here too long, Ted. Aren’t you worried the wife will forget about you?” Brian openly mocked the older man.

  
“Blake is out of town for a conference. I-“ Ted began but stopped himself from speaking further.

  
“You what?” Ted shook his head. “Ted, you know you can stay at the loft when Blake is out of town. You don’t have to stay at work. You supported me; I support you.”

  
“The demons are always louder when he is gone, at least they are when I am at home.” Ted spoke quietly. He had always been ashamed about his previous addiction to crystal meth. If he hadn’t been at the top of his field, the CIA would have just washed him from the Agency. Instead, when he finally was able to admit he needed help, they shipped his ass off to an intensive rehab facility. He met Blake Wyzecki there, a ghost from his past, and it changed everything. Blake was technically employed by the Agency, so he and Blake didn’t have to keep much secret from each other.

  
“I know. Come to the loft. I converted the floor below mine. I’ll stay with you. I’ll even let you have the bed.”

  
“Aren’t you going to be busy?”

  
“This may be a shock to you, Theodore, but I don’t always need some place to stick my dick. I promised you and Blake.” Brian never broke a promise, he hadn’t since he was a child.

  
“You’re a good friend. I don’t tell you that, but I do believe it.” Brian just shrugged.

  
“Don’t go spreading that around.” Brian warned.

  
“And ruin your asshole façade? Wouldn’t dream of it.” Ted joked, feeling a bit more at ease with their usual banter in play.

  
“Enough of that. Before we leave The Dungeon, fill me in on what you’ve found.” Ted shuddered at the thought. “That bad?”

  
“Worse. You’ve never been on the Dark Web. There are some twisted psychos that haunt that place. I’m glad I decided to just look at the site codes, I didn’t want to see the pictures and videos.”

  
“Shit. Why didn’t you say anything?”

  
“It needed doing. I handled it. I’ve marked several potential sites that our guy could be using. We will have to match descriptions. The codes for most of the boards don’t contain any links, JPEG files, or PNG files. Mostly we have vague descriptions, locations. Nothing too incriminating.”

  
“You’d think they would be more open on the Dark Web. They are asking for something illegal. Why be so discrete?” Brian was puzzled. He kind of thought it would be more  _Killer wanted to eliminate douchebag_  especially given the lengths a person would need to go through just to enter the Dark Web in the first place.

  
“It’s like that on purpose. Just in case.” Ted said as he took a hearty gulp from the cup in his hand.

  
“Well, we’ll worry about that tomorrow. For now, you look like shit, Schmidt. I don’t need any abuse from your missus.” Ted laughed at that and nodded his head.

  
“Let’s get out of here.”

 

\--  
They headed to the loft, laden with Thai takeaway that they grabbed from the place three block from the loft. Brian almost couldn’t stop the groan he had when he saw Michael standing by the entrance of the building.

  
“Brian! Thank God you’re here.” The voice echoed off the nearby brick buildings.

  
“Mikey, what are you doing here? It’s late.”

  
“I haven’t seen you in days.” Michael whined, “I thought we could grab a late dinner.” Brian held up the white plastic bag that held his Pad Thai and Ted’s Pad Kee Mow. He tossed the keys to Ted.

  
“Head up. I’ll meet you.” Ted grabbed the bag and walked over to input the code so he could go inside the building. “As you could tell, I have it handled.”

  
“Why does Ted have a code to the building but not me? You trust him over me, your best friend?” The shorter brunette all but screeched.

  
“I’ve told you that the other tenants don’t like just anyone having the code to get in the building. The only reason Ted has it is because he is my CFO. Sometimes there are files he needs that I didn’t bring to the office. It’s easier for him to have a way to come and get them without disrupting what I am doing.” Brian reasoned.

  
“I could always pick them up and bring them to him.”

  
“That’s just an extra, unnecessary step. What would be the point of that? This way Ted can get what he needs immediately and get his ass back to work.” Brian wanted to roll his eyes at the man, Michael didn’t always show the most intelligence. Brian grabbed Michaels face and pecked his lips quickly. “It’s been a long fucking day, Mikey. I’m starving. I’ll call you later.”

  
“Fine, but I expect a damn call tomorrow.” Michael shouted at Brian’s retreating back. Brian made his way up to the third floor where Ted was waiting for him at the table inside.

  
“Sort out everything with your girlfriend, Bri?” Ted ribbed the taller man as he shoveled noodles into his mouth.

  
“Fuck off, Ted.” Brian shot back, not a hint of malice. “Why Michael has to show up every time I don’t call him back immediately is beyond me. He knows I’m busy.”

  
“He just needs someone to talk to. He’s so lonely after he left David in Oregon.”

  
“No one fucking told him to come back here. He was upset that Hank took all the attention. He didn’t realize that moving to where the guys kid was would mean he wasn’t the center of the universe to David.”

  
“He isn’t the center of your universe either. Gus has always come first for you, from the second he was born.” Ted said quietly. The words took Brian back to that night. For the second time in as many days, he found himself remembering the blue-eyed blonde that shook up his world. Brian almost hated his rules; he wouldn’t have minded seeing the twink for round two. Even three. But it wasn’t in the cards, he never saw the kid again. “Where do you keep going?”

  
“You reminded me of the night Gus was born.” Brian said weakly, not really wanting to admit that he was once again thinking of some kid. He didn’t usually mind letting Ted see him for who he was underneath everything. Ted was the closest thing that Brian had to a best friend and he didn’t even realize it.

  
“You’re thinking about the kid again?” Ted asked plainly, setting aside his noodles. He didn’t remember much about the kid other that his being so young with an ass to die for. No one remembered anything about him, not even his name. “Brian, it was years ago. Why is he the only encounter you still remember?”

  
“I don’t know. He was an incredible fuck, what can I say? I would have broken a few rules for that piece of blonde boy ass.” Brian said with a shrug. Ted snorted and grabbed his take out box to begin eating again. “I’m gonna take a shower before I hit the couch.” Brian joked.

  
“You can sleep in the bed. It’s not like we haven’t shared before.” Ted finished his Pad and threw the empty container in the sack. Brian hadn’t even eaten, but that wasn’t unusual. Ted moved to put it in the fridge.

  
“What would the neighbors think, Theodore?” Brian feigned being scandalized, hand against his chest. Ted just rolled his eyes.

\--  
Heading into the office first thing was always a bit of a downer for everyone, especially when The Dungeon was their destination for intel gathering. It was only 5:30, but they needed to get a jump on the Ocean situation as soon as they could. They had a lot of work to do.

  
Brian and Ted weren’t the first to get there, Chuck was at one of the desks looking furiously between two screens. Code scrolling quickly as he checked through more and more sources. He had a ghost like pallor to his skin, as if he was finding the information to be too much.

  
“Ted, did you tell him what he was getting into?” Brian asked, loud enough to snap Chuck out of his stupor.

  
“No, I thought we would be here before anyone else, so I didn’t think to leave a warning.”

  
“Man, this shit is gnarly. What the fuck is wrong with people?” Chuck asked, looking as though he was going to gag at any moment.

  
“Listen, Chuck. You have a lot to do for the art department.” Brian announced, “Why don’t you just head down there now? Get a head start on your work, maybe head out early?” Chuck didn’t wait for another word but jumped at the chance. He was a newbie in the Agency. He had only been off the Farm for two months before being assigned to Kinnetik.

  
After Chuck left, Ted beamed all the potential sites and their codes to Brian so that he could begin to run the descriptions with the lists of Ocean’s confirmed hits and suspected hits. It was like looking for a needle in a god damn pile of needles. There was so much data, and he was finding nothing that coincided with what they already knew. It was close to lunch time when Ted finally yelled out.

  
“Brian, I think I’ve got something.” Ted was basically bouncing in his seat, clearly excited.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter was a little shorter than the previous two. I hope you enjoyed it nonetheless. See you in the next.  
> LC


End file.
